


Even Though You're Running Blind

by ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Arum has to babysit a bunch of sick humans, Fevers, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Other, Seasons of the Citadel, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), Second Citadel Zine, Sickfic, all the humans get the flu, canon typical Damien panic, canon typical Grumpy Lizard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand/pseuds/ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand
Summary: Rilla can normally handle the flu that sweeps through the knights' barracks every year. This year, though, she gets sick. She recruits Arum to play doctor in her stead.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Sir Marc & Sir Talfryn (Penumbra Podcast)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	Even Though You're Running Blind

**Author's Note:**

> This is my finished piece for the Second Citadel Zine! I'm so grateful to have been a part of this zine, and it came out absolutely spectacular! Thanks to everyone that helped me write this (especially @jakkubrat on tumblr hi i love you you're my hero for letting me yell about this with you while I was writing it)

“Hey, Arum!” 

Arum nearly drops the vial he’s holding as a warm body smacks into his back. As it is he stumbles forward into his work table, bumping a hip against the hard edge. He growls, putting down the vial and spinning around, “Amaryllis,  _ what  _ are you _ -” _

“No time to talk- I mean- no time t- no. Wait. Hang on, I-”

Rilla falls forward against him, and he catches her, gripping her shoulders. “Amaryllis, are you-  _ intoxicated? _ ” 

Her head lolls to the side a bit as she tilts it up to look at him properly. She’s pale and her skin is moist. She lets out a noise that isn’t  _ quite _ a laugh. Her voice is slurred and weak as she rambles. “H-haaa, no, ok so- fun fact,  _ humans _ get sick, and every year around the same time, we all get this wonderful illness called the  _ flu _ . And so, because I’m the best doctor in the Citadel, people come to  _ me _ to get treated. The knights tend to get it really quickly because they all live in the barracks together, so they come to  _ me _ and I end up with a hut full of sick knights. And that’s usually fine! Except,  _ this _ year, I got sick, too. So I can’t take care of them, and  _ you _ can’t get sick, so you’ve gotta come back to my hut with me and help me.” 

Arum blinks. “ _ What? _ Amaryllis, I am not a-  _ nursemaid _ I cannot take care of feeble humans, and you forget that they would murder me on the spot if they had the chance. Surely there is another doctor- another  _ human- _ ” 

Amaryllis cuts him off, and her voice is still slightly slurred, but it is no longer weak. Now she is practically yelling, “ _ Arum _ . Can you catch a human flu?” 

He starts, flinching slightly at the change in tone. “I-  _ of course not _ I am not some fragile little  _ mammal _ -”

She cuts him off again, this time pressing a finger to his snout to silence him. “Then you  _ have _ to come back with me.  _ Please _ . It’s just me, Damien, Marc, Talfryn, and Angelo anyway. You know they won’t hurt you.” 

Now that she seems a little more lucid, Arum tries to be logical. “Amaryllis, I am not an herbalist. I have no notion of how to treat a human illness. I would not know the first thing to do, and I would probably only make things worse. You ridiculous mammals are so fragile if I gave you the wrong  _ food _ I would probably kill you.” 

Amaryllis is already shaking her head. “No, look, here,” she says, and pulls a stack of papers from the bag attached to her hip. “I made instructions. And, honestly, I’ll probably be able to walk you through most of what you need to do, I’m just going to be too exhausted to do it myself.” 

This is not reassuring to Arum in the slightest. He is not…. He is not good with humans in the way Amaryllis is. He does not have a “bedside manner”. He looks at her, takes in the pleading expression on her face. He realizes, suddenly, how difficult this must be for her. To be a doctor unable to help your patients. Amaryllis is stubborn, determined and protective, and he’s suddenly aware of the fact that she would have come to him as an absolute last resort, and that even asking for help at all is likely very difficult for her. 

He meets her gaze and nods, a little apprehensively. Her shoulders sag in relief under his hands. “Ok, good. Thank you. Now I  _ really _ gotta sit down because you have  _ too many arms _ right now and I  _ know _ you have more than we do but right now you’ve got like  _ eight _ and I  _ know _ that’s not right. Oh, Saints, I feel like I’m going to fai-” 

Arum watches in horror as Amaryllis’s eyes roll back and she slumps towards the ground. He catches her before she falls, snapping, “Amaryllis, don’t you  _ dare-”  _

He scoops her up into his arms and realizes she’s  _ warm _ . Humans are usually much warmer than him, but this - his scales are nearly burning where they are in contact with her skin. 

“Ridiculous mammals, rendered useless by a mere-” he stops speaking to shift her in his arms again so he can gently brush some hair that is sticking to her damp forehead away, “ _ illness _ . Foolish primates unable to even care for yourselves-” he stops again as he notices something. “Amaryllis  _ what _ \- why is your face  _ leaking _ what-” He feels so completely useless. He doesn’t even know if this is  _ normal _ if this is- What if this is more serious than he thought? Amaryllis said this happens every year but, surely it can’t be  _ this _ bad, this cannot be  _ typical _ . What if- What if he messes up? Will this illness kill them if left untreated? He cannot be  _ responsible  _ for these humans’ lives, he- he pauses and takes a deep breath, pulling her closer and ignoring the lump forming in his throat and the tightness in his chest. “Amaryllis, what do I  _ do _ ?” 

She makes a soft noise and nuzzles into his chest, and he feels his breath catch. He  _ has  _ to make them better. He has to. 

* * *

This is ridiculous. He cannot do this. What was he  _ thinking? _ What was  _ Amaryllis _ thinking? He came back to Amaryllis’s hut, and what was clearly already chaos turned into a hurricane of panic when he stepped through the portal and into their bedroom cradling the unconscious herbalist. Damien nearly fell tripping over the sheets as he scrambled out of bed, rushing to meet Arum. “Rilla- my Rilla oh what happened? Is she hurt? Oh, my flower my love how could I have let you out of my sight in such a moment of  _ weakness-”  _

“She is just  _ ill _ , Honeysuckle,” Arum growls, hoping his voice is steadier than he feels. He hopes this is normal for human illness, he can’t let Damien panic, even if his concerns are legitimate. “She is… sleeping. I-I’m sure.”

“Oh- oh my poor flower working so hard without a thought for herself, taking care of me while I am so  _ weak _ and  _ helpless _ I am a  _ leech  _ upon her, a  _ leech _ -”

“Honeysuckle, breathe. She was doing her job, and she came to me when she knew she would no longer be able to care for you. She will be fine.” He growls instinctively as the bedroom door swings open behind him, pulling Rilla closer to his chest. 

Sir Angelo stoops in the doorway, his brow furrowed in concern. He doesn’t seem to see Arum immediately, but instead looks to Damien and booms in a thick, congested voice, “Egads, Sir Damien, whatever is all the fuss about? It sounds as if- SAINTS ABOVE the lizard is here! In Rilla’s hut! What a marvelous surprise, friend-lizard! Hello!” 

Arum stumbles for a minute at the moniker, and Angelo steps fully into the room. “But- Rilla! She is unconscious! Is everything quite alright?” 

“Our Rilla is-  _ ill _ , Sir Angelo.” Damien says, his voice soft. “She has… Caught our flu, it seems, and collapsed from overwork.” 

Arum shifts Rilla in his arms so he can reach one hand out, brushing his knuckles gently across Damien’s cheek. Damien leans into the touch, and Arum notices that his skin carries the same heat that radiates from Amaryllis. “She needs rest, Honeysuckle, as do you. Go back to bed.”

He follows Damien, carrying Amaryllis over to the bed, and sets her down beside him. Damien’s eyes flick up to him “Is… is it  _ wise _ for us to be sharing a bed, my lily?” 

Arum fidgets and then grumbles, “Well, where else am I going to put her? Do you have any other suggestions?” 

Damien gives him a look, and there is a familiar nervous twitch to his hands, but there is also set to his jaw and a gleam in his eyes that is familiar, but strange on his face. It is a look that Amaryllis wears when she has an idea, one that he is unlikely to approve of.

* * *

  
  


Ten minutes later, Arum is sure he’s never been more uncomfortable in his life. They decided it would be best to move the knights to the Keep since it could make up more beds, and so he’d carried Amaryllis right back through the portal and deposited her in his bed. Transporting the rest of the knights however, proves more difficult. Upon rousing Talfryn it’s clear that he isn’t going to be able to walk anywhere. They manage to get him onto a nervous Dampierre, but that leaves Marc without his usual method of transport. Arum does not want to have to take more than one trip, unwilling to leave Amaryllis and Damien alone for long, and Dampierre clearly doesn’t want to leave either brother alone. Unfortunately, this now leaves one option -- Arum is going to have to carry Sir Marc through to the Keep. Which feels. Impossible. It is not that he faults Sir Marc for this, of course. But he struggles with touch even with Damien and Amaryllis. It is… Difficult for him. And now, to have to  _ carry _ a human he hardly knows? It feels far too intimate, with someone who is far too close to a stranger. 

He’s been frozen next to a seated Marc for too long. Marc gives him a withering look and mumbles, “You really don’t have to- do this, y’know. I know you’re not, uh. Fond of me.”

Arum blinks. “What?” 

Marc scoffs. “You heard me, Scales. I can make it on my own. Not the first time I’ve had to make it around without Dampierre. Don’t trouble yourself.” 

Arum takes a step forward, then. “Don’t be ridiculous, takatakataka. You are not a trouble, knight. You are ill, and Amaryllis cares for you, and therefore. I must as well. I  _ do _ as well.” 

Marc looks at him then, and his eyes are still slightly glazed, but Arum can still read the shock there well enough. He uses the moment of silence to step up to the knight and reach for him, hesitating to ask, “Is there anywhere I shouldn’t touch you?” 

This startles a chuckle out of Marc. “Well, try not to get  _ too _ handsy, Scales, and you should be fine.”

Arum stoops to let Marc loop an arm around his shoulders, watching Marc and moving slowly, ensuring every touch is anticipated. When he reaches for Marc’s legs, Marc swallows and adds, “And- uh. Just. Watch the right leg. It should be fine but I’d rather not test it.”

Arum nods and scoops Marc up into his arms, trying not to make any more awkward eye contact than necessary, and carries him into the bedroom and through the portal into the Keep. 

  
  


Arum has no idea how he’s going to manage this. Every time he thinks he’s done everything he needs to do, another handful of tasks magically appear. Four knights and Amaryllis are far too many patients to keep track of, even with his Keep helping. Damien is constantly on the verge of a spiral, and Arum spends a significant amount of time relaying messages between him and Amaryllis - reassurances that his symptoms are nothing to be overly concerned about. Perfectly normal. 

Amaryllis, much to his surprise, is an absolutely  _ terrible _ patient once she wakes up. Every time he comes in to check on her, she waves off his ministrations and demands updates on the rest of them. Interrogating him over his methods, making sure he is administering the proper medications (her notes turned out to be feverishly scrawled and nearly completely illegible). 

The giant one, Sir Angelo, has proven more of a hindrance than a help, despite his eagerness. His illness has made him more clumsy than usual, and this combined with his utter determination to aid in treating the other knights has resulted in more stress than Arum can handle. He’s knocked over two vials of serum, only one of which Arum managed to salvage, and he absolutely  _ refuses _ to  _ sit down  _ and  _ rest _ . He keeps insisting that he’s fine, that he’s hardly ill, but Arum can tell he’s making himself more sick trying to help, and making Arum’s job more difficult besides. The Keep finally intervenes, lowering a vine to gently nudge him away from Arum’s workspace, and Arum sighs with relief when the knight finally collapses onto a bed and seems to doze off. 

He takes the lull in activity to retreat to his workshop for a moment to collect himself. He’s already administered a new dose of medicine to everyone, and most of them have dropped off to sleep, made drowsy by the treatment. He organizes his thoughts for a moment, catalogues things he’ll need to do while no one is in need of immediate attention. He’ll need to prepare some food, Amaryllis recommended some kind of soup - bland, easy to digest. He’ll need to prepare another dose of medicine for them all as well, perhaps he should start on that-

“Talfryn!! Scales, get in here!!” The shout is frantic, startling Arum out of his thoughts. He rushes out of his workshop to find Marc on the floor - he must have pushed himself off the bed and across the gap between his bed and Talfryn’s. He’s gripping Talfryn’s hand and Talfryn- Talfryn is shivering violently, curled on his side and almost thrashing in the bed. 

He reaches out to gauge the knight’s fever, but before he makes contact he can  _ feel _ the heat radiating off Talfryn’s skin. This cannot be normal. He flinches back and Marc’s eyes snap to him, “Scales,  _ do something!”  _

Arum looks around the room, gaze flicking between the knights, who have sat up in their beds in the confusion and are looking horrified at Talfryn. Arum shakes himself out of his stupor and moves to the bedroom -- Amaryllis will certainly know what to do about this. He has a difficult time rousing her -- her fever has grown worse as well -- but as soon as he makes the urgency of the situation clear she grabs his arm and gives him a stern look. “You  _ have _ to get his fever down, Arum,  _ now _ . Keep a cold compress on his forehead and his wrists, and if you can, get him into a bath with tepid water.” 

He nods and rushes off, telling the Keep to run a bath while he gathers some towels and returns to Talfryn’s bedside. He helps Marc move from the floor to perch on the side of Talfryn’s bed, and together they apply cold compresses. Arum wipes the sweat from the knight’s brow, and Marc pushes up Talfryn’s sleeves to mop down his arms with the cool cloths. When the bath is ready, the Keep lowers some vines to gently pick up the knight and move him into the bath. 

The knight is completely unconscious, but Arum does his best to soothe his shivering. He is very worried about this knight, he realizes. Arum knows very little about Talfryn, but he knows that he is dear to Amaryllis and Damien, and Marc as well. He cannot let anything happen to him, for their sakes. So, he sits by the tub and does what he can. He sits until Talfryn’s shaking subsides a little, and then he goes to Amaryllis, who confirms that he should be put back to bed. He does his best to wrap the knight up in thick towels and dries him as much as he can before tucking him back into his bed. 

* * *

  
  


Several hours later, after he’s given them all more medicine -- Talfryn hadn’t woken up but Arum had managed to get him to swallow just enough -- and some homemade soup, Arum thinks they’re going to be alright. Amaryllis has slept through most of the day, but she managed to eat almost a whole bowl of soup and seems much more alert than she did earlier. Damien’s cough is worrying, but Amaryllis gives him a recipe for tea that seems to soothe the hacking a bit, and Damien confirms that his throat his much less sore. Angelo has also slept through most of the commotion, which has reduced the general level of danger in the Keep. 

Arum spends the evening in a kind of routine, distributing damp cloths and water, making more food and tea. Talfryn’s fever goes back up later in the evening, and so does Angelo’s. Arum ends up spending most of the night alternating between their bedsides, wiping their faces with cool cloths, and gently running clawed hands through their sweat-damp hair. Every once in a while, he gets up to check on Marc, Damien, and Amaryllis, but apart from Damien occasionally waking up when his cough returns, they all sleep through the night. 

He does his best to make Angelo and Talfryn comfortable, and eventually they settle down into fitful sleeps. Arum, too, must doze off, head pillowed on his arms leaning over Angelo’s bed, because he wakes up to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. It’s Amaryllis, sleep-mussed hair illuminated in the morning sunlight that filters through the Keep’s walls. She smiles at him, “Hey, you should get some sleep - I don’t have a fever anymore, so I can take over for a little while.” 

He sighs and stands up, pulling Amaryllis into his arms and nuzzling into her tangled hair before slipping off to their room to sleep. And if, when he wakes, he is met with gentle teasing from Amaryllis (“I don’t think you can pretend you don’t like them anymore, Arum. Not after you mothered them all night”), or a surprisingly sincere expression of gratitude from Marc (“Thank you. For taking care of him. You saved his life last night, and I won’t forget that.”), well. They don't need to talk about that. It goes without saying. Strange it may be, but he cares for these knights, just as they care for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile on tumblr!


End file.
